skyfall (a thousand scars and souls apart)
by The Cinder Crown
Summary: Narcissa knew that, once she felt the pain and saw the word 'mudblood' in neatly written scarlet letters burned into her flesh, that she had found her soulmate. But their union was doomed to be burried underneath the bricks of war, darkness and pain, when the skies fell down upon them. DarkWins!AU. Soulmate!AU. No dialogue. Femslash. :: For Jade.


_... For Jade ... Happy Birthday, love :* ..._

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Celtic Week Long Challenge | Deirdre of the sorrows | soulmate AU | Pairing: Light&Dark

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Writing Club | Second chance soulmates | 31. Free for all. Any soulmate idea you want to repeat, or use one I've not included. (You have the same scar as your soulmate)

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Writing Club | Showtime | Hamilton | Act one | Non-Stop: (era) Post-war (Between years '81-86 or '98-'03)

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Writing Club | Book Club | Sir Leigh Teabing: (word) labyrinth (action) betrayal (location) graveyard

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Writing Club | Television show of the month | Veronica Mars | Veronica Mars:(character) Hermione Granger (dialogue) "The hero is the one that stays and the villain is the one that splits." object) dress

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Diagon Alley Event | Ollivander's Wand Shop | Organize wands for 15 coins (Write one fic, 2k word min.)

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** || Writing Club | Days of the month | Quiet Day | write a fic without dialogue.

Words: 2,140

DarkWins!AU

A.N. Neither characters nor song belongs to me.

* * *

 **Skyfall (a thousand scars and souls apart)**

* * *

 _...  
This is the end  
_ _Hold your breath and count to ten  
..._

Narcissa meets her sister's eyes. Light blue meeting deadly black. One of her dangerous looks is enough for Cissa to turn around. (it always has been)

So she turns, like she always does. Even if it meant watching a scene that will cause her nightmares for the rest of her life. Narcissa does it anyway, too afraid to disobey her older sister ever again. She did it once and still feels the consequences of it; the way her arm had been broken… fragments of the bone sticking through the open wound… the taunting looks and wicked cackles… and all Bellatrix did was raise an eyebrow, asking how she dared to be so weak.

Now her sister has a new victim. The poor girl with the deep brown eyes, small freckles, bushy hair, sprawled across the floor like a fish out of water; she cries. She doesn't know that this is just the beginning. _(no one ever does)_

In her weird and twisted way, Bellatrix thinks she's doing the right thing. That she's doing it for the greater good. Protecting their kind from girls like Hermione, girls with dirty blood. The fear of being stripped of power was the unspoken reason for Bella's actions. That Purebloods got pushed to the side-lines by half- and mudbloods. So Bella takes matters into her own hands. Of course, the fact that it helps pleasing her Lord's moodswings is a nice by-product. As is ceasing Bella's thirst for blood; also pleasing her. _(how she tortures innocent people)_

The fact that it breaks Narcissa that she's unable to help the poor girl doesn't occur to her. Bella isn't capable of thinking rationally. At least not anymore.

Once, there was a time, when things could have turned out differently. But there's no turning back time. They all have to live with what they did. How promises had been broken and people got betrayed. It's turning hearts from light to dark. _(or from dark to darker)_

And usually, that is always the end. When their cries are echoing through the hallways of the estate, when their screams are ignored by every other resident of the esteemed manor, when their last breaths are so quiet no one will ever hear them. When the tears roll from her deep brown eyes, meeting Narcissa's own, begging her to do something to end her suffering.

But Cissa cannot do anything. She has no power over Bella. So she does the only thing she can. Keep the girl's glance the entire time, giving her something to hold on. It's not much, but she can see it in the girls eyes that she understands. For her, it seems to be enough to have a person in the room that doesn't judge her for her blood. Narcissa never said it out aloud, too afraid of the consequences she would endure, but a girl like Hermione is able to look through her well-guarded walls. So she tries to give the girl hope. _(hope that it won't be too long until her suffering comes to an end)_

In the end, she only holds her breath and counts. _(she always counts to ten)_

 _...  
Feel the earth move and then_ _  
_ _Hear my heart burst again  
..._

But Hermione doesn't die. Narcissa doesn't know how she managed to survive. _(they never survive)_

Pulling back her blonde hair, she brushes her long fingers over the dungeon cell she's been kept in. It feels rusty and cold, metal on flesh, iron on skin.

Narcissa had felt it, every single bit. From the knife that Bella had first used to tear into her soft flesh, how she had pressed it against the girl's throat, the way the blade cut in. _(it always cuts deep)_

One day, she will thank the boy who lived and his friend for escaping. For freeing her.

Narcissa turns again, leaving the dungeon. She doesn't want to explain why she has been down there. One look from Bella would be enough, she knows.

She is not allowed to feel that way about the girl. If they find out, Narcissa is the next on her sister's list. Or her son. Yes, for Draco, she will behave.

She tells herself to forget about her. But it's not as easy as she wants it to be. Whenever she shoves her sleeve back, she is reminded of her. The connection between them always in plain sight. Like the words that had been cut into her arm, the girl had burned herself into Cissa's soul and heart. They shared the pain, the tears, the scars. _Mudblood_ on burning red letters on her own arm, hidden by the sleeves of her robe. _(always hidden)_

The memories of the brown eyes, so pleading to be saved, are haunting her. Suffocating, drowning, turning her dreams into nightmares.

 _...  
I've drowned and dreamt this moment_  
 _So overdue I owe them_ _,_ _swept away, I'm stolen  
_ _..._

Narcissa sees her again month later, on the battlefield. Fires are raging, walls are tumbling, even the skies are crumbling.

It's time to make a choice. Light or dark? Good or evil? Right or wrong? Hero or villain? The hero is the one that stays and the villain is the one that splits.

Narcissa is neither of them. She doesn't fit in. _(she never does)_

She sees her son at the far end of the field. Running, hiding, screaming. What else is there to do?

The boy who lived has beaten death once more; leading the light to victory. _(at least that's what they think)_

She sees her sister, completely oblivious to all the lives she's taking. Oblivious to the pain she causes. Oblivious to her own fate as Molly Weasley's curse hits her right in the chest. Oblivious to the relief Narcissa feels the moments she drops dead on the floor. _(a moment long overdue)_

 _..._  
 _Let the sky fall when it crumbles_  
 _We will stand tall face it all together_  
 _..._

Witches and Wizards hustle around, Healers are working more than they can. Everywhere she looks, Narcissa sees death. A school turned into a graveyard. Like a labyrinth divided in two parts. Defeated and victors. The first ones locked up in a small corner; parents mourning their children, children crying over lost siblings, widows clutching the bodies of their husbands, not wanting to let go just yet.

The latter group is smiling, laughing, cackling wickedly at the pain they have caused. The Dark Lord himself sitting on his throne, looking down at his servants, smirking at the sight of _'The boy who died'_ laying on the pile of corpses.

Narcissa feels sick, nauseous even. She has been looking around the Great Hall for what feels like an eternity. The bushy brown hair, the dark brown eyes that look so innocent, still haven't met Narcissa's. The girl wasn't among the dead, not among the defeated, but the burning of her scar indicates she is still alive. _(a miracle in itself)_

Careful, trying not to draw attention on herself, Narcissa leaves the hall. She passes the gates, runs out into the gardens, right through the forest.

The darkness, familiar and frightening at the same time, is surrounding her. Her brain tells her to celebrate, to be happy to be still alive, to cheer for being on the winning side. The dark side.

But her heart feels broken, desperate to find the young witch, whose soul – in the most ironic of ways - is connected with her own. Light and dark. Good and evil. Right and Wrong. Heroine and villain. Connect by something so strong that it leads Narcissa to the edge of breaking. Right to the point where she doesn't want to live without her. To the point where she would look for Hermione until she found her. No matter how many miles apart, not matter if the skies are falling down upon her, she would find her. _(let the sky fall already)_

 _...  
Skyfall is where we start_ _  
_ _A thousand miles and poles apart  
_ _..._

Narcissa tries hard not to fall apart. The days are dark when their worlds collide again. She meets her in a deserted alley. Her hair is longer, filthy, dirty. Her eyes are tired, scared, haunted.

It's nothing surprising. That's what happens when people are on the run. They are fighting for a life already lost.

Hermione has been hiding for five years. Never staying for too long at the same place. It was a mere incident that Narcissa was able to find her.

For a moment, the two only stare at each other. The years on the street had clearly taken their toll on the poor girl. She was thin, starved, not daring to move.

Her body is shaking, she feels trapped; Narcissa knows. She wouldn't feel any different. Narcissa is part of the darkness that once killed all her friends, her family, her everything. _(her hope)_

It's only a matter of time until the other Death Eaters will find her. They are good at what they do. Too good. So far, they have imprisoned all the survivors; sentenced them to a life-long stay at Azkaban. Women, children, purebloods. Mudbloods are their main priority. Hunted like animals in a forest; in plain sight and without a place to hide. Every single one who doesn't share their fanatic and lunatic ideas suffers the same fate. It's un unfair game. _(but nothing's fair these days)_

Narcissa ignores her brain this time, gathers her courage and steps forward. Slowly. In slow-motion, she pulls back the sleeves of her elegant black dress – a harsh contrast to the rags Hermione wears - revealing the scar that had been burned into her flesh so many years ago.

Hermoine's eyes widen.

' _Mudblood'_

Like in trance, the girl – young woman – mirrors the older witch's action. The word that her sister Bellatrix had once carved into her flesh still look the same; like the torture happened only a couple of days ago.

Narcissa tries to speak, tries to explain their connection. She even opens her mouth a couple of times, moves her lips, but no matter how hard she tries, no words come out.

But Hermione is smart. Otherwise she would have never survived this long. And of course, she must have heard about the rumours that occasionally, soulmates are still to be found in their world. It's a rare occurrence, but it exists nonetheless.

Narcissa can read it in her eyes, how she wonders what this is supposed to mean. Their shared scar was proof for her that they belonged together. It has a deeper meaning and something changes in the deep brown eyes of the girl; something entirely different is written in them now. Was it hope? That perhaps Narcissa would be able to chance things for her? Something that would stop the Death Eaters from hunting her? Something that would offer her better future? _(which future?)_

But Hermione was a bright girl. She should know that there is absolutely no way for them to live together. Perhaps in another life, but not in these times. A _pureblood_ and a _mudblood_ , no matter how both their souls longed to be connected, would never have a future together.

 _...  
Where worlds collide and days are dark_ _  
_ _You can take my name_ _  
_ _But you'll never have my heart  
..._

The tears are spilling from Hermione's eyes, the tears that tell Narcissa that she understands that there's no way of saving her from her fate of everlasting loneliness.

Despite the many warning signs that are floating through her head, Cissa steps forwards, wipes away the tears.

The touch of her hand upon her cheek sends chills down her spine and brings her heart to beat twice the normal rate.

The widened brown eyes indicate that Hermione feels it, too.

The warm sensation that is flooding through them, the heat, the energy, the fear. It all hits them at once.

The power of two soulmates finding each other is indeed stronger than both of them had ever imagined.

They savour the feeling for as long as it lasts. _(to remember it forever)_

Narcissa is about to speak her name out aloud, it's already on the tip of her tongue. Before she can voice her thoughts, however, common sense stops her.

Calling out her name aloud, the name of a _mudblood_ , would equal Hermione's death sentence.

So she presses her lips firmly together, biting her tongue.

They have to go their separate ways again, they both know it. _(they'd never have each other's heart)_

Before she turns around for good, Narcissa leans in and touches Hermione's soft rosy lips with her own.

Then she pushes her away, giving her the chance to run, to hide, to live, to avoid death for a bit longer.

 _(at least until the skies fall down on her for good)_

 _...  
Let the sky fall  
For this is the end  
..._


End file.
